


Under the same sky

by snoozingkitten



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Happy Ending, Injury, M/M, Mermaids, Multiple Orgasms, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 21:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21167939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoozingkitten/pseuds/snoozingkitten
Summary: His tomb was named ‘The Codfather’.





	Under the same sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [al-the-remix (only_blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_blue/gifts).

> The halloween exchange is my favourite of the year! It keeps pushing me to write things I would have never thought of on my own. There were so many good ideas, but this one hooked me ;) 
> 
> Huge thanks to the mods for keeping everything running like a well oiled machine, and my beta [Track_04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/profile) who keeps me running despite the flat tire and the distressing clanking sound, you are my superstar. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I've never actually been to Florida

“Your love will kill you.” The words held a hundred different possible meanings, each one spinning from the eventuality of his death. Love, after all, could be a person, a place, or thing.

It didn’t quite seem fair, but it also didn’t seem unreasonable. Evgeni loved fairy stories, and in many of them love could do anything. It could give a man superhuman powers or raise the dead. Transforming itself into something beautiful. Just like Ivan Tsarevich. 

Denis was walking ahead with his friends, pretending that he didn’t care when their mother had shoved his little brother out after him. ‘Take him with you!’ cried after him as Evgeni ran to catch up. Evgeni didn’t mind if they walked too fast, he just like spending time with the bigger kids. 

A woman sat on a ratty blanket, a deck of cards in front of her, woollen hat catching wiry grey hair, deep wrinkles and the clink of metal from her hands when she moved. An ancient dog was asleep with its nose pressed into his ratty coat. 

“Do you want to know your future?” She had asked him, and the boundless curiosity of children wouldn’t be contained. This was how the hero would get his quest. 

Denis came back for him, cussing all the while as he tugged Evgeni along, ‘if you’re going to stay don’t get into trouble, mama will blame me’. Evgeni had taken what was left of his snack money from his pocket and left it for the woman, Denis giving her a deeply suspicious stare. Even if Evgeni didn’t like what she had to say, she had still told him a fact that he felt in his growing bones and lengthening limbs to be true. 

\--

Evgeni fell in and out of love like breathing. He loved despite the warning signs because he couldn’t help himself. 

\--

Evgeni wasn’t the type to really need a lot of his own space. He liked it when people pressed in too close, took him out of his own head for a moment. Being alone with your own thoughts didn’t always work out for the best. He’d grown up in too small a place for a boy with a heart his size. 

This year had taken its toll in a way it hadn’t before. Usually by Worlds he was able to compartmentalize enough to move past the season and look to the next one. This time was different, he didn’t want to go back and party. He had been certain, as the new year tipped over that this was the year that _something_ was going to happen. A certainty in his bones that he couldn’t shake, no matter how much his superstitious brain tried to force him not to envision the words ‘We are going to win.’ 

It was almost like being betrayed when they didn’t. 

The house he had rented was further from the city center than he would have ever pictured himself staying. It had a huge stretch of private beach, and the couple next door had been away the two days he had been there already. Not that he would have been able to tell even if they were. The silence didn’t seem to be helping his morose mood either. 

“I’m home.” Geno sighed, and killed the engine of the rental sports car in the parking spot. He had gone into town for supplies; a storm was moving in. Geno knew fuck all about ocean storms, but the car rental place had made it sound like a big deal, so if he was going to be stuck, he might as well have food. 

He was regretting this impulse trip; the summer was longer than it should have been due to a truly tragic showing, but that was no reason to waste it moping. There was still time to turn around and book a hotel in Miami and spend time with someone pretty and willing. 

He took his things into the house and set about putting them away. 

He wasn’t fit to be Captain, he didn’t speak enough English, he was too selfish, too undisciplined. This was why his team was struggling, they paid him too much, he was too difficult for wingers to work with. That plot had been carried by numerous news outlets in Pittsburgh all year, going in endless cycles. He was supposed to turn the team around, why couldn’t they have drafted Ovechkin instead? Oroboros as a journalist.

People talked like it wasn’t a team sport. Still, he felt the pressure when he wasn’t producing, because when he was, the team lit up around him. In those games, it was like he could actually put the team on his back and carry them all the way himself. He was old enough to know better, but not quite old enough to truly believe. 

He had just missed his parents; they might still be awake, but he didn’t want to hazard it. The last message on his phone was from an old friend and teammate ‘Stop sulking and come to Moscow, I’m bored.” He had been so annoyed to have his own thoughts voiced by another that he had left the message as read for the last six hours instead of replying it. 

After much thought, he typed in his reply, ‘No’, and went to take a bubble bath. 

-

The sun was so bright that it burned the air, sizzling along his exposed shoulders and face. He has his eyes squinted against the glare. His whole body rocked gently from side to side—a boat? Before he could get a really good look at his surroundings -water, water, water- hands landed on his shoulder. Something splashed to his side, and he turned to look. This was a mistake. 

He was pulled overboard with a sharp cry. 

Geno was a strong swimmer, but the ocean was a cold shock that left him splashing aimlessly for a few moments until all his limbs started working together. Something brushed his waist, and then his foot, fast and fleeting. He couldn’t peer through the glare of sun on the surface of the water, but there was something in here with him. 

He swam desperately towards the boat, heart thundering and filled with the ancient hind-brain knowledge that there were creatures that moved in the water like land and had teeth to spare. The ocean was vast and filled with all sorts of unknowable creatures. In the water, he was slow and vulnerable. Fingertips just grazed the edge of the boat, bigger now, when a distinct hand wrapped around his ankle and tugged him under. 

Geno shut his eyes against the water, lashed out with his other foot to try and kick the creature. It didn’t connect, but he got his foot free. When he surfaced, it had dragged him away from the boat. Without wasting time, he began to swim frantically, if he could just get on solid ground. He got a mouth full of water when it dragged him back this time. 

Toying with him. Waiting for him to exhaust himself. The realization was chilling. He was already drained, chilled by the water. His heart was thundering pointlessly in his chest, but his blood was cooling and congealing already. 

When it dragged him under it was almost a mercy, salt water burning his eyes and flooding his mouth and nose when he gasped. 

He clawed himself awake, the hazy dark of the sun just barely breaking the surface giving way to the darkness of the rented room. The storm wailed and howled against the shutters. It sounded like it was going to break through and tear its way through the house, nature in all her pissed-off glory. They didn’t have storms like this is Pittsburgh or in Magnitogorsk. The cold was more pervasive, crawling under exposed cuffs, and down the back of your neck. Even a storm was softened by the blanket effect of the falling snow. 

It was nothing like the raw fury throwing itself against the coast. He had followed the list of precautions texted to him to the letter. Outer shutters pulled over the windows, everything from outside dragged into the pool house. 

Maybe it was the storm outside trying to drown him that triggered the dream. Although he’d always had that one. Ever since he was a kid it was always drowning, rivers being swapped out for the ocean the first time he saw it in all its horrifying glory. 

Dreaming of teeth falling out was the most common nightmare in the world, it was supposed to be linked to aging. Drowning was supposed to be linked to a flood of emotions. 

Geno rolled over and listened to the house bravely standing between him and the storm. He tried to fall back asleep. 

\--

It was still dark outside, the sun had risen but the clouds still covered everything--the wind had died down a little but rain still fell in harsh sheets against the windows. Curiously, he unlocked the front door and stepped out into the storm. 

The wind buffeted his shirtless torso, rain stinging his eyes. 

This didn’t feel like the purifying summer rains that washed everything anew, the kind that made you smile as they watered the plants for you; this was scorched earth tactics. He walked down towards his private beach. His feet sunk into the wet sand, gritty between his toes. It felt brave and stupid being out here where he was clearly not wanted. But he was curious about this hidden world, glimpsed only through footage as a hurricane with a friendly name killed those unfortunate enough to get in the way. 

Through the sheets of rain he could see a figure on the beach ahead which had clearly not been there before. At first his mind couldn’t quite wrap around it, maybe drift-something, wood? Something there that clearly wasn’t a dead body. That shit only happened on TV and in books. Still, as he squinted through the water beaded on his eyelashes, it didn’t look any less person-like. 

“Fuck'” Geno hissed to himself, jogging across the sand, his feet sinking into the damp ground and slowing him down. He stumbled to a stop without reaching the body. 

It was a man. 

It was also not a man. 

Well, this was a weird addition to the recurrent dream. 

No amount of standing there gaping vacantly made the vision in front of him change. His stupid heart did a weird little flip, shaking in his chest and almost startling him, adrenaline reminding him he was worried about finding a dead body on the beach. Man or -- other. 

Pushing his arms and legs, which felt shocky, into moving was difficult, and he staggered closer to the shape. 

“Hey,” he called out dumbly. 

Did _mermaids_ speak English? 

What. 

The. 

**Fuck**. 

Geno crashed to his knees within touching distance. The shape was slumped, torso twisted so he was more or less on his side, long – tail – curled towards him. 

The movement must have jostled him because he was up immediately, tail twisting and slapping Geno hard in the side. Not having seen the hit coming it was like being boarded by a huge D-man, stealing his breath and rattling his bones. Geno went down into the sand hard, landing on his shoulder and rolling with it. 

“Stop!” He threw his arms up even as a strong hand wrapped around his neck. The rain was blocked by the body leaning over his. 

The mermaid was heavy, pressing down on his throat, cutting off his breathing. The hold didn’t budge when his hand came up to pry them off. The grip was like iron, and Geno grew increasingly desperate. 

He grabbed a wrist and pulled--that caused a yelping sound and the mermaid twitched his hand away, allowing Geno just enough room to break the hold, claws raking across his skin as he scuttled on his ass away from it. 

“Stop! Stop!” he cried. It moved disturbingly fast, tail propelling it while it used strong shoulders to hold its body off the ground.

It didn’t attack. 

Geno’s hands shook where he had them up, panic flooding through him, making his face feel flushed, muscles tight with the need to move. 

He opened his eyes and it was close to him, staring at him with huge, dark eyes, short pointed teeth bared at him threateningly. Geno held his arms out, palms up, and hoped that was universal enough to ward off being strangled to death. When he wasn’t immediately attacked he lowered his hands a little, peering back at the man looking at him. 

“Hi,” Geno said. Immediately feeling like an absolute idiot, but not wanting to lead with ‘don’t kill me.’ His Mama raised him better than that.

The man paused at that, some of the tension leaking from his body and Geno mirrored it, letting his hands fall to his lap. His sweats were soaked and now low across his hips where he’d scuttled like a crab across the ground, and there was probably already sand in them. 

“Sorry,” the man said with a scratchy voice, clearing his throat with a wet sounding gurgle. 

“What.” Geno choked—utterly shocked. What was more unreasonable, that there was a mermaid on his beach or that he spoke English? Geno, honestly wasn’t sure. The whole thing was probably an extremely vivid dream. Maybe it had started when they bowed out of the playoffs shamefully quickly, and all this was just his stressed brain’s idea of a hilarious joke. 

“I didn’t mean to attack you, you scared me.” 

“Ah,” Geno said, thoughts still stuttered to a complete halt. The sting of sand on his ass sort of ruled out this being a dream, but he was still spinning in circles, brain not quite able to connect A and B. The complete restart moment took a couple of seconds. Thoughts coming in fragmented but at least linear. The tail was long and dark, more eel-like than fish-like, probably wider around than his own waist and thickly muscled. The transition to skin looked soft, a gentle fade rather than an abrupt line. He was probably being rude. Staring, he was definitely staring. 

He came out here to help and now he was feeling a little light headed with shock. Too many surprises, one after the other; his heart wasn’t strong enough for this kind of thing. Geno couldn’t help the small, close lipped smile. 

“Fine.” He grunted. Meaning it was fine, everything was fine. 

The face was nice. It was a nice face. Full pink lips, well defined cheekbones and dark hair. Enough to put together a rough imagine of a person, but his mind was still too scattered to really combine it in a way that made sense. More of a Picasso of a face than anything you’d encounter in reality. Jury was still out on that last point. 

“Are you okay?” The man asked after a moment and Geno breathed out harshly. 

“I—” Right. “It.” Geno licked the rain off his bottom lip. “You are fish.” Probably not the most eloquent he had ever been. A very low bar for someone who'd spent a few years communicating mostly in swear words and hockey slang. 

The man looked at Geno like he might have been the weird one here. 

He was still trying to take in everything when he noticed an obvious asymmetry. One wrist was swollen and purple, a flash of hitting a wrist and being released. He was a professional, he knew injuries. He wasn’t the one who did that, swelling and discolouration took time. A few hours at least. The rest of him looked a little worn. Broad chest, littered with scrapes and some bruising on his opposite shoulder, it looked deep but not concerning for anything besides superficial soft tissue. 

Considering the strength of the grip, it was probably sprained and not broken. “Are you hurt?” 

The man looked at his hand, looked at Geno and gave a little half shrug. The motion seemed natural, human. Weird to see on something so brazenly and wildly non-human. 

The rain was still pelting them both, but that had gone from a fun beach-house novelty to literally the least of Geno’s immediate problems. The storm was entirely secondary--short of trying to drown him with a wave, it wasn’t an issue. The danger bleeding into awkward silence was a much larger obstacle. 

He scrambled to think of anything more intelligent than ‘fish-man’ to say. Between the early hour and the fright, he actually couldn’t seem to make his mouth work. ‘What are you doing on my beach?’ seemed rude. 

“Do you want me to look at it?” Geno said, gesturing at the injury. 

Fish-man hesitated before holding out his hand. Geno scooted closer, both of them pausing before each movement, not quite sure what was allowed or not. The little mermaid had in no way prepared him for anything aside from surprisingly jolly crabs. 

Fish-man’s skin was hot, worse over the swelling. Were fish cold blooded like lizards? Geno didn’t know. He had had this done to him countless times by a number of medical personnel over the years, enough to know where to put his hands and press. Assuming similar bone and joint structure. 

Fingers pressed over the thumb extensor tendon and feeling along its length. A short rotation proved that the bones at least were intact. He pressed his thumb just under the thumb, against hollow of bones there to check for tenderness. It seemed right, like it was just a soft tissue injury--rest, ice, compression and elevation. The fingers were too-long, broad palmed, the skin webbing coming up higher between the first knuckles. Really only noticeable since he was holding it. At a quick glance they would have passed. 

“Probably okay,” he said, clearing his throat. Fish-man had remained still throughout the examination. 

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

They were closer now, at least, enough for Geno to get a good look at him. 

He was big, broad shouldered and chested. There wasn’t an ounce of wasted space, pure muscle from his chest down to the – tail. Geno’s eyes skittered away from it, not quite ready to deal with that. Although the face wasn’t bad at all, that was safe for now. 

“I’m Geno.” 

“Sidney.” 

Well, it wasn’t like he had ever eaten a fatty piece of sushi, so in a way that made sense. 

\--

“Stop sulking and come back.” He looked down at the text message when his phone vibrated in the cupholder of his rented car. 

He didn’t bother to reply. He was driving. 

He didn’t bother to reply, he was putting the groceries away. 

He didn’t reply, he was jogging down to the beach with a towel under one arm. He left his mobile on the counter-top with some organic vegetables he had the best intentions of eating. 

Watching Sidney essentially beach himself would never not be creepy. He was fast, incredibly so. Launching himself at the surf and letting the mild waves and the momentum push him as far up the sand as he could. He then used a mixture of his arms and the thick wriggle of his tail to propel himself the rest of the way. He was even faster now that his wrist was more or less healed and he could use both arms again. 

It was like something out of a horror film. 

Geno grinned at him, pleased to see Sidney come up and meet him. “Hey.” Geno himself was still a bit pink from where he had burned from spending too much time in the sun on the beach with Sidney. 

“Hi yourself.” 

“I got some ice cream, we can have it later.” 

Sidney made a low rumbling in his chest that passed for a hum, looking deeply pleased. Geno brought him something new to try whenever he bothered to go into town. Sidney liked everything sweet and didn’t seem much for anything bread-based. 

It wasn’t even that Sidney was a mermaid. Well, it was still a little bit about that, but he was just so nice, endlessly curious and actually just pleasant to hang out with. He laughed when Geno told a funny story, and even shared some of his own, which usually spiralled into winding lines of curious questions about each other, their lives, and their worlds. Sidney’s sense of humour was dry, but who knows, maybe mermaid stand-up comics were all like that. 

Geno had probably never told anyone else this much about himself. It just came spilling out, and Sidney would smile at him, completely at ease now with his pointed teeth. The first time Sidney laughed, exposing the mouth full of small fangs Geno had jolted, then had to apologize for being surprised, deeply embarrassed. Geno had never been teased about having herbivore teeth before. 

Sidney also inexplicably knew some Russian and happily showed off what he knew, much to Geno’s delight. As it turned out, Sidney had been curiously following submarines since before the cold war and listening in on transmissions. 

They had spent days, huddled over his phone looking up submarines and battles until the battery died and Sidney complained loudly about the relative uselessness of land technology. Which, rude, he didn’t even have _pockets_ to carry a phone, so where did he get the right to complain? Still, he was delighted with every bit of history Geno could offer him.

“Let me explain hockey,” Geno said, sticking a spoon full of contraband ice cream in his mouth. Sidney was licking the cream off his spoon, looking uncomfortably happy. Like Geno wouldn’t have pulled a sex-face over this generic store-brand ice cream himself, but here he was. 

He shifted on the blanket, closer to Sidney, who stuck his spoon in the tub to get more. 

“You’ve mentioned it before.” Sidney smiled at him, “it’s a game you play.” 

Geno sighed, ‘playing hockey’ and ‘playing a game’ were completely different. No one had a million-dollar contract for playing Monopoly. He was almost certain Sidney was just teasing him. Watching him with brilliantly golden eyes, spoon stuck between his full lips, corners of his mouth twitching slightly. 

“I don’t—never mind, let’s watch.” 

“Sure.” Sidney squirmed closer, grabbing Geno’s shoulder to pull and the drying fins of his tail flicking up a small wave of sand as he used it to push himself onto the blanket and right into Geno’s personal space. It was one of those things that Geno just chalked up to cultural differences--Sidney never hesitated to use Geno has an anchor when moving around. 

This close, he was almost burning hot, skin weirdly smooth and firm. It felt like it would probably be thicker, not as elastic if you tried to cut it, but he had no way of testing that. Just the brush of it over his shoulder, the palms of Sidney’s hands slightly rougher than Geno’s own. He shifted so Sidney could curl even tighter in, the solid weight of him pressing Geno slightly down into the sand. 

Geno pulled up an old game. It was one where he scored a hat trick, because he wanted to impress. The loss felt small now; it didn’t weigh as much on him as it once did. Time and Sidney a soothing balm for his troubled heart. He was looking forward to sharing this part of himself now, win or lose. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah.” 

Sidney seemed intent on the small screen, listening to the commentary sing Geno’s praises in between Geno’s own commentary about the rules and the objectives. Geno regretted picking a game where he was the star; suddenly it felt embarrassing in a way he couldn’t quite put into words, all mixed in with the pride of a game well played. He deserved the praise for being the best, but listening to it now was too much. Geno ignored the heat in his face and kept watching the game while watching Sidney watch the game. Sidney’s tail flicked and shivered when they were on the penalty kill, riled up with the crowds. 

“That was great,” Sidney said when the feed ended; the sun was dipping down low, beginning to turn the sky a delicate purple, Geno would need to go get one of the portable lanterns soon. “You play in front of so many people?” 

“Thousands,” Geno agreed, looking at the pile of notifications on a background photo of his dog playing in the snow. 

Another came in, showing across the top of his android, ‘Seriously G, call me. Where r u?’

He frowned at it, letting his nearly-dead phone drop onto the blanket between them. He flipped over the phone when another notification popped up on the screen. 

“Are there water sports?” Geno asked curiously. He had seen dolphins dropping shells to play on that documentary with the British guy. 

“Of course.” 

Most of their sports relied on direct hand to hand contact or passing, on account of objects losing momentum in water unless being directly moved. It must look like something else, flapping fins twirling around each other as they grappled over the underwater equivalent of a puck.

By the time the topic was exhausted, the sun had gone down and the stars were beginning to spread across the sky, still pinpricks in the last weak light. 

“It looks like people are looking for you,” Sidney said, nodding at the phone which kept lighting up, face down as it was. 

Geno shrugged, stretching back. Sidney didn’t move, so when he lost his balance and toppled over, Sidney came down with him. Both of them lying together, looking up at the sky. 

“Not important,” Geno said, knowing it wasn’t true. Soon, his trainers were going to be looking for him, the front office staff, not just his friends and family too used to him coming to spend down time partying. Trades were going to happen, and he would need to pull his head out of his ass and be a Captain again. 

He hadn’t felt this uncomplicated since he was a kid. Out here it seemed like they were isolated from the wider world. For all that it really should have been complicated, it really wasn’t. 

“Will you bring more ice cream tomorrow?” Sidney asked, head on Geno’s shoulder. The sound of the ocean’s constant motion just slightly louder than the lazy call of seabirds. He thought about the number of people he wasn’t answering, but briefly and only in passing. 

“Of course. Next time we are trying mint.”

Sidney hummed. He had no idea what mint was. 

\--

It was a small boat. Probably not the wisest for ocean faring given Geno didn’t actually know anything about boats, or the ocean. He had gone deep sea fishing a few times with a guide. It was completely something else to watch Sidney swimming, towing the boat easily with powerful flicks of his long tail. He was a blur of dark and colour in the clear water, and Geno couldn’t help but stare. 

Sidney dived deep enough that Geno couldn’t see the blurry outline of him anymore and the boat drifted to a stop. Geno sat there where the ocean met the sea and wasn’t particularly worried about it. The gentle rocking motion wasn’t even that bad, just bobbing up and down with the whims of the water. 

There was a sudden splash, the whole boat rocking. Geno could only gape as Sidney shot out of the water, whole body twisting and arcing, all the little fins fanning out as he leaped clear over the boat in a dazzling shower of glittering water. He slipped back into the water on the other side with a flick of his fins. 

“Holy shit,” Geno breathed, absently rubbing some of the water from his face where it splattered. 

He rushed over to the other side to watch Sidney break the surface with a wild smile. 

“I made it.” He laughed as if he didn’t just blow Geno’s mind. “Want me to try and do it again?” 

“_Yes._” 

Eventually Geno peeled off his shirt and tossed the floating dolphin he had bought and expended a solid portion of his lung capacity inflating into the water and dove in after it. Geno yelped; the ocean was shockingly cold. It looked like it should be warm, with the hot sun beating down on it all day. 

He swam over to his dolphin and clung to it, kicking his legs lazily. Sidney surfaced next to him, hovering in the water easily. 

“It’s cold,” Geno whined. His testicles had retreated in search of a less hostile environment.

Sidney laughed, flicking water at his face and Geno pouted. Hiding his face in the dolphin, surrounded by its distinct chemical smell. 

“Is it actually cold?” 

Sidney’s voice was closer than Geno would have expected and he jumped when a hand curved around his ribs. 

Sidney was even hotter in contrast to the cold of the water, and Geno found himself uncurling just a little. 

“It is,” he said, feelingly weirdly breathless. 

“But you always feel cool,” Sidney reasoned. 

When Geno left his feet float in the water they brushed Sidney’s tail and his breath caught, trying not to shiver. He had touched it once at the beginning, enough to determine that it was solidly muscular as well, the surface smooth. Exciting, different, not quite taboo, but a fetish in the most classic sense of the word. Something to be worshipped, obsessed over. 

Not that he thought about it. Much. This newly awakened sexual attraction to fish needed to be taken in baby steps. 

“You can float.” Sidney laughed. 

“I can,” Geno agreed, clinging to his blow-up dolphin. He was a fairly strong swimmer. It was cardio that didn’t involve running, so of course he substituted it as often as he was able to. 

Begrudgingly Geno let go of it, Sidney moving up close behind him, a solid line of heat. It took every ounce of self preservation to stop himself from trying to swim, just let himself float against Sidney’s chest. He could feel the movement of Sidney’s tail just barely, as a slight rocking behind him and the swirl of water being displaced. 

“It’s warm,” Geno finally said, his arms moving gently side to side to help Sidney keep him floating. 

It was weirdly peaceful for Geno to just tread water lazily, letting Sidney do most of the work of keeping him above. 

Traditionally, mermaids would lure sailors to their doom wouldn't they? Geno was doomed anyways, so this, at least, wasn’t bad. Not that Sidney had seemed to have any intention of luring him anywhere except the sparking sexual tension between them that Geno desperately hoped was reciprocated. 

“Breath in,” Sidney said, voice pitched lower, not too loud given how close to Geno’s ears he was. 

Geno did as he was told, body moving into a flatter float with Sidney’s hands urging him. He was spread out like a starfish on the surface of the water, Sidney’s hands on his hips, moving gently under him to support him back to chest. Honestly, he didn’t float too well, too much muscle and not enough fat, but like this, he was nearly lying on top of Sidney. 

Warmed by the sun on his front and Sidney at his back, Geno let himself go boneless. 

He was suspended there between the sky and sea, and every thought, every worry, everything fled. There was nothing here but Sidney and him. The ocean was huge, boats the size of city streets could be lost and never found. Let alone one hockey player. 

Sidney nosed curiously against his hair and Geno made a soft vaguely agreeable sound. 

That must have been whatever signal Sidney needed because he pressed them together fully, acting as a sort of a raft. Geno laughed, content to let Sidney support him entirely. This way he could feel the subtle flex of his muscle as Sidney’s tail swept through the water. The gravity between them was hitting critical mass, it wasn’t just Geno now. 

It would be the easiest thing in the world for Sidney’s hands to tighten on him; all it would take was an inch or two. Geno mused, squinting against the endless expanse of blue sky. His heart was pounding with the exhilaration of the moment, and the very human fear of not having your feet on good old terra firma. 

“Okay?” Sidney asked, a shade of concern in his voice. 

“Perfect.” Geno grunted, not quite ready to accept the truth of the way his heart twisted, offering itself up without looking back. Just like breathing. 

\--

“Oh _fuck_,” Geno swore. 

Sidney chuckled. 

He hadn’t been this excited about heavy petting since he was thirteen and just realized that boobs were everywhere. 

They were sprawled on the beach, which was their spot, Sidney lying on his back, gripping Geno’s sides tight and helping guide Geno’s hips in slow dirty circles. Geno’s thighs were splayed, Sidney’s sinuous tail between. Hot, and firm, deliciously alien. 

His cock was leaking all over Sidney’s scales, rubbing up against all that muscle while Geno writhed on top of him, way too worked up for just grinding. But it was Sidney’s _tail_. Sidney was moving with him, a smooth wave that activated a series of muscles and bones Geno literally couldn’t even imagine. 

Sidney’s abs shifted into stark contrast as he rolled his ‘hips’ up, threatening to lift Geno from his knees.

“Careful.” Geno swayed forward. 

“Right, dick on the outside.” Geno could almost hear the air quotes as Sidney spoke. It’s fine. He was cute. 

That and Sidney’s hands were huge and warm against his ribs, just propped up enough that Sidney could watch all of him. Watching Sidney watch him pushed his heartbeat higher, shifting his hips in a slick little grind. He had always liked having an appreciative audience. 

Geno reached down with one hand so he could press his dick more firmly against Sidney’s skin, breath catching at the added sensation. Fuck that was good. Smooth and hot. 

“Feels good?” Sidney asked. His face was flushed, eyes almost predatory. He let just the tips of his blunt claws touch Geno’s skin, digging in just enough to tease when Geno breathed deeply. 

“Yeah.” Geno hummed. 

It was. Good. 

Geno’s knees dug into the sand, the sun beat down on his back, sweat beading along his hairline and making all his skin feel extra sensitive. They were so out in the open, the breeze from the ocean washed over him, caressing down his spine. 

He’d been worked up before he even got his pants off. Sidney’s hands groping his calves, Geno’s legs splayed on their beach towel, dick rising against the fabric of his shorts. Extremely careful kisses, Sidney’s fangs threatening his lips. Geno pushing him further despite the danger. 

Geno’s hips stuttered, losing his rhythm for a moment, hands trying to meet his hips and getting lost in between. 

He was desperate, embarrassed by his own inability to hold on. His face heated with the back of his neck, aware that he was balanced right on the edge. Geno bit his bottom lip, pressing his hard cock that much tighter against Sidney’s scales. 

Sidney flexed between his thighs, long and muscular and just perfect, mouth kissed red, spread out under Geno. 

That was it. 

Geno grunted, shuddering hard as he came apart. It shivered up from his toes and down from his hair. The steep jump in sensation which balanced on the edge of nothing for a long moment before it crested and broke. Geno grunted, hips jerking in stuttering half thrusts, spreading wet all over Sidney’s scales. His come looked obscene against Sidney’s dark iridescent scales. He rubbed at it faintly, feeling an echo of his orgasm flare in his gut. Fuck that was so hot. 

Sidney’s hands flexed on him. Tugging him a little closer and Geno hissed, shoulders rounding as he collapsed forward onto Sidney. 

He lay there for a moment catching his breath, heart still pounding. 

“Is that how long it usually takes up here?” Sidney asked, rubbing across the small of his back, toying with the crest of Geno’s hip bones curiously. 

Geno made an aggrieved noise and pinched Sidney’s side. 

\--

“I’m worried about you.” 

“I’m fine Mama, I’m enjoying the sun. You always say to relax.” 

“I never thought you’d listen to me!” She laughed. Geno smiled at the pile of vegetables he was cutting up.

“I always listen,” Geno lied cheerfully. 

“You do look happier.” She admitted with a soft clucking sound. Geno smiled fondly at the camera on his laptop. “The sun is doing you good. You’re so tanned now.” 

“It really is.” Geno replied. 

Geno had always been like this, ignored all the warning signs and jumped directly into the metaphorical deep end every time. When he liked something it was his everything, glutting himself on pleasure and passion in equal measure. Pride, greed and wrath, Geno lived his sins in equal measure and never bothered to apologize for it. 

“Now, what is the next step?” 

“Show me the mix, I want to make sure you did it right.” 

“_Mama,_” Geno whined. 

\--

Geno tugged on the blanket, squirming, the grains of sand that had made it up to the blanket biting at his skin as he did. 

“Fuck.” Sidney gasped against his neck. 

Geno moaned, shaky and low. Sidney’s hands holding him down, kept in place while Sidney’s terrifying cock continued to pound into him. 

‘It’s on the inside because it would get in the way.’ Sidney said knowingly, as if Geno’s dick was some kind of irritation to be dealt with. If Geno didn’t have such a healthy relationship with his own penis he’d probably grow some sort of complex now. Geno had scoffed; every guy wanted to believe his dick was so big it got in the way. It was all bullshit, he had been in locker rooms since he was 7 and knew it all by now. 

Geno had worked himself open on two fingers, quick and easy, knees splayed to show Sidney, since he wasn’t letting those claws anywhere near his asshole. He twisted to look over his shoulder, making sure Sidney’s possessive gaze was on him and felt is mouth go dry. He quickly added a third finger, splaying them and arching his back with the sudden stretch of it. 

The angle was all wrong to get his fingers as deep as he wanted too, tipping forward and dropping his shoulder. 

Even that wasn’t quite enough. 

Geno let himself get rolled onto his side, Sidney’s hand tugging his leg up and out of the way so he could fit in tight. The fat head of his cock caught on his loosened hole and then slid up between his cheeks. ‘You sure it is going to fit?’ Sidney asked, Geno felt his face flush. A mix of weirdly embarrassed and desperately turned on. 

‘Yes. Come on.’ 

The process had been intense, taking his insides and wrapping them up all tight. Sidney rocked further and further insides, as steady as the tides. Geno was already filled, stretched helplessly around the size of Sidney’s dick, and yet he kept pushing deeper and deeper. Geno could feel every little shift between them, Sidney’s hand wrapped around his thigh. 

Geno got a hand around his own cock, trying to distract him from the sensation of being stuffed so full he could feel it with every breath. Too much and still desperate for more. 

Geno came the first time with a stuttering hand flying over his cock, stuffed full of cock. He’d always been sensitive, and there was no way something that big wouldn’t brush against every primed nerve ending in his body. 

Sidney paused, the solid rocking of his body pressing down on Geno as he panted and twitched. All too aware of the hard cock still inside of him. He panted, gasping slightly when Sidney shifted, his hand coming down to Geno’s abdomen where he had come all over himself to rub across it curiously. 

Geno shivered. Fuck. 

“Wow,” Sidney said, sounding breathless and desperate. Geno closed his eyes and relaxed, rocking back slightly. 

“Yeah?” Sidney asked, pressing his teeth gently against the back of Geno’s neck. The pointed tips didn’t break skin and were too dull to scrape without effort. Still, Geno stilled with a shocked sound. 

“Yes,” Geno demanded. 

Embarrassingly, Sidney fucked him right through to a second orgasm. He didn’t falter, just kept going like he had nowhere he would rather be than internal-balls deep in Geno’s over-stimulated body. 

Which brought him right back to that moment, Sidney’s rough voice pressed into his hair “_Fuck_.” Every little gasp, groan, or even mindless murmur made Geno feel warm, higher thought process worn away by the constant onslaught of pleasure. 

“Sid.” Geno groaned. 

It wasn’t possible for him to get hard again. He was a grown man, and yet there was a low ache in his balls as his body didn’t listen to his brain. His dick hadn’t even gone soft from the last one. 

“You gonna come again?” Sidney asked, voice scraped and rough, shivering behind Geno tellingly. 

Geno moaned, shaking his head slightly. 

“I want it,” Sidney said, like he was trying to say it softly but it sounded too low, less a plea and more a command. “It feels so good when you get all tight like that.” 

“Shit. Yeah,” Geno agreed. 

It was probably going to happen a lot sooner if Sidney kept that up. 

Geno tipped forward just a little, Sidney moving with him so the unreal weight of him was pressing Geno’s legs down and trapping him. Scales pressing his thighs apart. 

Geno reached down to cup his cock, try to keep from getting any sand on his stomach which was already sticky with his own come. He was coming to terms with the fact that he was going to embarassingly come on Sidney’s dick a third time. 

Higher and higher Sidney pushed him, Geno’s breathing going shaky. He couldn’t bear to touch his dick, it was too sensitive, but that didn’t seem to stop the coiling pleasure in his blood. The build up was there without any help from him at all. With some experimenting, he had got pretty close to coming hands free on a vibrator with a wicked curve and some good porn. In the end, he had gotten close and hadn’t been able to keep his hands off himself. 

This felt a lot like that. 

“Is it okay?” Sidney said, voice more of a vibration than a sound against Geno’s skin. 

“Mn?” Geno said stupidly. 

“There is going to be a lot more than when you came,” Sidney replied. Geno’s stomach went hot and shivery. Wow. 

“Yes,” he grunted, face flaming.

Sidney hid his face in Geno’s shoulder, losing some of the metronome-quality of his movements. Movements turning quick and jerky, dirty grinding. Sidney was almost vibrating, a rumbling in his chest pressed up against Geno’s back. Sub-vocal grunting. 

He hadn’t been kidding when he said there would be a lot. Geno was moaning, unable to stop himself as Sidney came inside him, filling him up with warmth. When he let a man come in him, it was more a symbolic gesture than an actual sensation, but Sidney wasn’t stopping, grinding in deep and pumping more and more inside. Warm against his bruised-feeling core. 

Sidney was still vibrating, all the little fins dragging along Geno’s legs, and shivering. 

He couldn’t help himself. Geno wrapped his fingers around his dick and needed only a few jerks to push all that simmering energy in his blood into a mad boil. He gasped, chin against his chest, exposing the back of his neck for Sidney’s mouth as he came again. It was weak, dragged out from the very depths of his soul it felt like, for all that it was tearing him apart. Geno shook his way through it and lay there dazed and panting. 

He didn’t know he could get off three times that fast. 

Sidney rolled away with a satisfied rush of breath. 

Geno flopped completely onto his back, grinning at the cloudless sky madly. He felt lazy, spent and probably better than he had in years. He was covered in sunscreen, sweat, three loads of his own come, lube and – caviar? Is that what it was called? 

Either way it was thick between his thighs, leaving him deliciously filthy, and deliriously happy. 

\--

“You want to buy the house?” The old man looked at him, brows drawn together in his leathery face. He probably had at least four different kinds of skin cancer growing. That Geno could see. 

“Yes.” Geno nodded firmly. 

Mr. Macenzie probably looked so confused because Geno was offering him at least four times what the house was worth. 

Geno would probably be willing to pay double that, but he wasn’t going to give that away quite yet. He wondered if the old man knew what sorts of wonders that beach held. Wonders that made it hard to make his shaking legs carry him back to the house because apparently having sex in three-dimensional space without the same coefficient of friction was anatomically difficult. 

He was more than satisfied. 

“Is that good?” Geno prodded. 

\--

“I need to go,” Geno finally brought himself to say. 

He had been sitting on the words for two days now, letting them hang over his head. Sidney had clearly figured something was up but seemed content to let Geno figure it out. 

“The season will be starting soon and I need to go see my family before I go back to work.” 

Sidney froze, going so completely still he could have been an elaborate sand castle. “Oh,” he said, voice hushed. 

Geno twisted around so he was resting on Sidney’s chest, looking into the shadows of his beloved face and coming to terms with some truths that had been friendly ghosts haunting his last few weeks. 

He was in love. 

“I’ll be back. Is there – can I see you?” 

Sidney’s smile was filled with sharp teeth. He looked delighted, wrapping his arms around Geno so they were almost wrestling on the sand. As it turned out, knees and hips were not an advantage in sand play-fighting. 

Geno eventually found himself on top of Sidney, probably because this was where Sidney him wanted to be. Feeling his tail between his knees would never not be thrilling. 

“We will figure something out.” Sidney promised, pressing his lips to the wrist he caught in his grip. 

Despite everything Geno believed him. He had bought the house before Sidney agreed anyways. 

\--

Her name was Katherina, and she was blond and gorgeous and funny. Her legs looks good in mini skirts, and the looser jeans she wore when Geno came over with the other guys to have dinner and shoot the shit playing endless rounds of poker. No one was being subtle about trying to set them up together. 

She was nice. She was pretty. She had a wicked sense of humour that Geno could come to love. She was clearly just waiting for him to make the first move, keeping herself available to him. Attentive in a way that was flirtatious. She looked like the kind of girl he would be proud to bring to WAG games. 

They were in a bar after a home game. She wore heels that really drew out the lines of her calves and kept her ass high and round. The scraps of fabric were woven artfully together to keep her breasts in perfect geographic alignment. The fabled golden ratio of tits. 

It was obvious that Katherina was tired of waiting on him. 

“Dance with me.” She asked, dropping the pretense of coy. 

“Sure.” Geno grabbed his beer off the table and followed her to the dance floor. She moved her body like silk, soft and light against his own. Hinting at luxury if he would just put his hands on her. 

Geno went home alone. 

\--

“How old are you?” Geno asked, laying in the sun on his beach. 

They had spent the morning out on Geno’s boat. The water was too cold for him to join, but Sidney didn’t seem to mind, alternating between swimming in tight circles and floating so Geno could see all of him. Sidney seemed similarly lazy, content to lie with Geno basking. 

“The current switched 302 times.” Sidney responded. Which could have meant anything. Geno furrowed his brows, despite a sharp spike in his interest in ocean life documentaries, he still had no clue. 

“Okay.”

It probably didn’t matter too much. 

Geno rolled over so he could watch Sidney. He was a completely different creature in the water. Figuratively and literally. 

Geno never got to see his fins when they were spread out like that, catching the water and using it to propel and guide Sidney. 

His gills were lower on his waist, sealed when he was above water to avoid drying out. Geno had once spent what felt like an hour just being amazed by Sidney’s primary swim eyelids. At once both alien, and comfortable. 

The next day they were both exhausted, trying to fit months of fucking into an afternoon. Geno needed a Gatorade and a soak in the ice bath. 

“Why is there so much?” Geno said, pretending to complain. He was filthy, thighs coated with come. Sidney looked smug. 

“So the water doesn’t carry it all away.” Which did explain why he came so much, and probably why his dick was so big. 

Geno would be lying if he said he hadn’t put some thought into fully three-dimensional sex. Maybe he would learn to scuba dive. 

The wind was getting cold on his naked skin, and Geno curled into his own personal space heater. 

“I need to leave tomorrow.” 

“I know.” Sidney’s fingers played with Geno’s fingers. Ran his own across Geno’s knuckles, little scars from training, from punching a man in the helmet. Getting caught in his jersey. “You’re going to come back.” 

Geno wondered if Sidney meant it like a question. He didn’t sound like it, like he knew just as much as Geno did that this was everything he wanted. 

“I will.” Geno agreed. 

\--

He came back that summer. 

\--

They had a system. When Geno was going to come back, he had the old owner come by and turn all the lights on, bring food, air the house out. All in the pretense of being rich and spoiled. Not that Geno wasn’t, but this was part of their signalling system. It allowed two orbits to meet in time and space. Geno wasn’t sure where or how Sidney knew when the lights there started coming on, but he was always there when Geno came back. 

\--

Geno gasped awake, sure that he was drowning, and found himself in a hotel room. It was just before the Christmas break and he was in Los Angeles going to face the Kings on home territory the next day. It was the wrong ocean, but he’d gone to go see it anyways, wondering what lived down there. 

Water had never felt the same since Sidney. Anything larger than a shower threatened to distract him with thoughts of his beloved. Apparently, there was a species of smaller mermaids that lived in large rivers. He’d love to see one. 

He just had to believe that there were others. Although Sidney could have been a very specific and ongoing delusion. 

He resisted the urge to look at the clock and confirm how little time he had to sleep. Just rolled over and tried to calm the mad gallop of his heart and shake the cold water from inside his ears. 

Sleep. 

Maybe he should have known it was a sign. 

The actual accident didn’t seem like much, a sad foot-note in the game otherwise won by some gritty work from the fouth line. Geno being carried off the ice, shaken and in pain. No one there knew enough to mark the day down on the calendar. Barely even got a mention from the talking heads in the after show. ‘He didn’t come back for the third, we will wait to see the status of Penguin’s Captain Evgeni Malkin. Up next three stars of the game, brought to you by Subway!’ 

It wasn’t any one person’s fault, and that made it hurt worse. All his rage without a direction. 

Weeks went by. He missed the by-week in Florida. 

\--

Geno bought a boat. 

‘It is time you think about what you’re going to do now. You’re never going to play again’. 

Everyone knew he spent all his free time in Florida now. Most people assumed he already had a big one. Not the dinky little thing that Sidney could easily tug behind him. What was the point in a bigger boat? This one was more fitting of a hockey player having a midlife crisis. 

He bought another boat, smaller, paid with cash and had it delivered to a remote dock. 

He didn’t settle his affairs. He didn’t say good-bye. It hurt but he couldn’t do that to his Mama and Papa. 

He filled the one boat with booze and drove it out onto the water. 

Sidney didn’t ask him if he was sure, he just helped Geno across onto the smaller boat, leaving the larger one empty, filled with half-drunk alcohol. 

He watched it get smaller and eventually vanish from sight completely. His tomb was named ‘The Codfather’. 

There wasn’t much to do, lay in the small boat and feel the pull of Sidney swimming through the water, pulling him further and further away from their beach. It left Geno with way too much time to think. The palpable sensation of being tugged further from what was once his life. For awhile he was maudlin, tipping right on the edge of asking to go back. He never managed to make the words leave his mouth. Sidney wouldn’t have asked about that either. 

The trip took days. Geno ate, drank, and slept on the small boat. He tried to convince Sidney to take a break too; he had been swimming for more than a day straight. He looked wild-eyed and twitchy but refused to stop. ‘Not much further’, ‘just a little more, hold on G.’ 

There wasn’t anything to do but lie there and wonder if they found the boat. He didn’t disable the GPS. Drunken boating accident. There would be whispers, of course there would be. The timing was too much, but he shouldn’t have been out on a boat with that leg of his. Just an accident waiting to happen. Drunk idiot lost at sea. 

Geno didn’t bother to really keep track of the time, he spent a lot of it sleeping. 

Eventually there was a splash and Sidney had launched himself up onto the boat, it rocked violently as Sidney settled his weight in the center. Sidney’s skin was rubbed raw where he’d tied the ropes around himself in a harness. Geno rubbed at the hot skin over his shoulder and frowned at the redness. 

“You’re hurt.” 

“It’s fine.” Sidney caught his hand and kissed Geno’s fingers. “I’m sorry it took so long.” 

Geno chuckled, all the nerves he thought he’d lost coming back up to choke him all at once. It must have shown on his face because Sidney slithered closer, mouth beginning to form words. Before Sidney could ask him, Geno shook his head. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready.” 

Sidney’s mouth was fever-hot against his own chapped lips. He tasted like salt and Geno kissed his lips, one cheek, the other cheek, his nose and finally Sidney’s forehead. Resting his face against wet curls and letting the tears mix with the salt. It wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t hope, it was something bigger and more simple. 

“Let’s go.” Geno breathed. 

He wasn’t sure how they made it to the edge, if he did it or Sidney did. He was falling backwards; for a moment, Sidney was highlighted by the sun and blue skies at his back. There was nothing but them and the sky. 

The cold water shocked him into gasping, mouth slamming shut as water rushed up and over his face. It burned his nose. 

Hands clutched him tight. Sidney’s claws digging into his shoulders as he dragged him deeper. When his lungs began to scream for oxygen, and his eyes couldn’t see past the bubbles he began to struggle. Geno had begged for this, made the choice and convinced Sidney for weeks and weeks. 

Brain beginning to run out of oxygen, Geno thrashed, to fight the hold on him. It didn’t help, the hands around him may have been well made of iron. 

Geno died. Killed by the one he loved. 

\--

The legend went, that in the very first coastal settlement there had been a woman. She loved with all her heart, although that wasn’t so special. But by chance she had met the goddess of the oceans, who took a liking to her simple and pure love. 

She was beaten and drowned to death by the man who loved her but could not have her.

Taking pity on the broken body, the nameless goddess brought her down into the depths with her. She took a fish and used it to fix her broken legs, used its gills to give her breath and finally killed it to resurrect her life. 

That was how the first mermaid was born. 

All the first mermaids were women. The goddess took each one and knit them back together with the same hands she used to stir the currents. A different fish for each. 

Tales of sailors being lured into the water by beautiful women, only to be killed. Each with all the fury of a hurricane and the powers of the ocean. 

The first one, her anger finally mellowed through the raging of the waves on the rocks, and countless lives of pitiful men, eventually saw a fisherman. Watching him, she felt the love she had let take her life so many years ago return. 

Surprised, but no less infatuated, he brought her jewelry, fruit, anything to prove his love. They spent years together in happiness. One day he became sick with the same illness that was killing the people of the nearest village. 

In desperation she brought him back to where she was first changed-- and drowned him. 

\--

Geno opened his eyes. It went hazy for a moment as his primary eyelids blinked. The water caressed his whole body, sticky webbing keeping him tethered in spot, drifting gently. 

His tail was a mottled yellow, orange, white and black-- with delicate wide fins. Geno exclaimed, blinded for a moment by the rush of bubbles that poured from his mouth. 

A hand slipped into his, Sidney’s fingers felt like coming home as they slid against his, a soft kiss pressed to his knuckles. Love was a person, a place or a thing.


End file.
